


How Scars Heal

by LaDragonaria



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Familial Abuse, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 04:56:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaDragonaria/pseuds/LaDragonaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short fic idea from the episode where Derek is training Erica, Isaac and Boyd and ends up breaking Isaac's arm during the lesson. The idea was how that would have affected him since he was physically abused by his (now deceased) father. And I always imagined that Derek would probably apologize. At least I'd like to think so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Scars Heal

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my friend Anne from Tumblr who loves her some Isaac.

Isaac sat at the edge of the bed, absentmindedly feeling at his arm.

It had healed since but he could still remember the feeling; a sharp pain that surged up and throughout his arm and the dull ache that ensued after it started to heal. He’d learned long ago that tears and screaming didn’t really accomplish anything. If anything, they just made it worse because he’d end up in the basement for longer periods of time, upset. And once the fear and panic had subsided, he’d still have his blood racing, screams unheard and nothing would be different. 

Complaining didn’t change anything because things didn’t change.

On the one hand, he now more closely understood that even though he had power, there were still others who had more power and were better at exerting and controlling it. The other hand was the one that Derek had yanked and snapped before tossing him to the ground… So, there was that.

He didn’t notice Derek was standing there watching him tentatively squeezing his arm. The man was like Batman; he liked black and his parents were dead.

“What is it?”

“…”

“…Are you going to just stare at me.”

“I did what I thought was necessary.”

Isaac knit his brows. “Okay, then. Thanks for stopping by.”

“I know I’m hard on you but it’s because I want you - you all - to get stronger. Do you understand that?”

“I understood that you broke my arm.” Isaac snapped curtly at him and Derek almost grimaced.

“I was training you.”

“You were abusing me!” Isaac turned and stared at him squarely. “He used to do that too. Justify it. Rationalize it. You both think you’re doing the right thing.”

“There’s worse pain.”

“Well, thank you for not burning me alive.”

“Hey!” Isaac knew he’d crossed the line.

"...I'm sorry."

"No..." Derek seemed as if he were contemplating something but the words were failing him. "No, I'm sorry. I..." He wasn't sure how to continue, so he let that trail off.

In truth, he wanted to say something along the lines of how he didn't realize how much it'd hurt him, but then that sounded strange considering Derek would have known. He hadn't been thinking.

In nature, lions were said to push their cubs down steep slopes and push rocks down on them when they tried to climb in order to toughen them up.

Even if that were true, Derek knew that on some level they weren't animals. 

Even if he wanted to toughen Isaac up, or show them the horrors of war, he couldn't do it blindly and expect there to be no trauma. He'd realized he'd been selfish. Sometimes it was so easy to focus on his own pain and suffering that he didn't truly understand it when others around him were suffering.

Stiles had told him before that he had no sense of empathy. And maybe that was the truth.

How could he build anyone up when he was already shattered?

"...You know..." Isaac penetrated the awkward silence with his words. "When you broke my arm, for a split second... I was happy."

"...Why?"

"I don't know. It's... it's stupid."

"...Tell me...?" He had almost barked that out like an order but softened it into a question.

"...Because it reminded me of my dad." Derek quirked a brow. "It... was kind of like he was back. And... not dead. If that makes sense. No. It doesn't. I know."

"...If that's how you feel, that's how you feel."

Feelings weren't right or wrong; they simply were. 

"He wasn't always bad."

"..."

"...I miss my dad..."


End file.
